There is no sexy talk that I won't diffuse. Because I don't find it anything but amusing.
Dude: "How's it hanging."
Me: "I'm ok. You?"
Dude: "How's IT hanging. I'm hanging sideways, man. I'm out in the sun and keep getting turned on for some reason."
Me: "Solar panels?"
Dude: "You sound like a dickhead. I love dickheads."
Me: "I'm just misunderstood."
Dude: "Do you have eyes?"
(I'm wearing sunglasses in my profile pic.)
Me: "No. I lost them in a freak rimming accident."
Dude: "That's a shame. I bet they were gorgeous."
Me: "I wouldn't know. Anymore."
Dude: "I'm in mourning for your eyes."
Me: "Well, next time I can't see you, we should have a wake."
Dude: "I will definitely give them some type of service. They've been through hell."
Dude: "You look grizzly."
Me: "No. But there was one involved in the rimming accident."
(After he sees my current FB profile pic)
Dude: "Where is that taken?"
Me: "The back room of the dive bar I work at."
Dude: "I run a bar!"
Me: "Well, I only run a bar once a week. Usually, I either run a comic book store, or run away from bears. Since the accident."
Dude: "The beard thing sounds ideal. You look like you'd be more into thinks. Twinks. BEAR! My texting skills ruined every part of that joke. Oh for fucks sake. Ignore all of the above."
Me: "I do prefer thinking twinks to other twinks."
Dude: "I'm not sure what I am. Not a twink. You're definitely a chicken."
Me: "Would a chicken voluntarily be involved in a sentence that includes 'rimming' and 'grizzly bear'."
Dude: "What are you then? WHAT EVEN ARE YOU? A monster?"
Me: "I did used to drink a lot of those energy drinks."
Dude: "You're like the Jimmy Carr of dating sites."
Me: "And paying taxes. Wait, are you British?"
Dude: "As fuck."
Me: "Russell Howard British or Boris Johnson British?"
Dude: "More of a Theresa May style."
Me: "As in, Brexity, or leather pants on a couch?"
Dude: "Leather pants. I'm wearing some right now."
Me: "I haven't been this conflicted in a while."